“That high-minded and noble lady was my most gracious patroness and friend. In the unrest caused by the mental and bodily pains which drove her from one place to another, it was a comfort to her to know that a good-tempered, light-hearted woman cheered up her husband, and gave him many a pleasant, harmless hour by chatting with him and relating all sorts of anecdotes and stories; attending him in his morning walks in the Schönbrunn Gardens whilst he was taking his Carlsbad water, and never abusing her extraordinary position for intrigues or to push protégés. It was the Empress herself who, hating the stiff Court life and Court dignitaries and ladies-in-waiting, had created my position, which I then maintained owing to the gracious confidence and gratitude of the Emperor.
Every spring I was the first to bring the late Empress, wherever she was staying, the first violets, and I always spent a few days with her. An Empress, however magnanimous and high-minded she may be, remains in certain questions above everything a woman. And is it, therefore, really possible to believe that the Empress would have honoured me with her grace and confidence in such an extraordinary way if even the possibility had existed in her thoughts that, after her death, I might marry the Emperor?”
It is really a remarkable interview. One is not, of course, entitled to say that the whole of Mme. Katti Schratt’s soul is revealed in it. One may take the liberty of doubting whether her respect for the memory of her friend, the Empress, was the sole reason why the proposed morganatic marriage was not concluded. There must also have been representations from many quarters—from the Emperor’s Ministers as well as from his daughters—that while such a marriage would cause a public and family scandal, it would hardly, in the circumstances, add anything appreciable to the happiness and privileges of either party. On that point one is certainly entitled to prefer one’s own judgment to the lady’s account of the self-denying ordinance. But Frau Schratt’s tacit assumption that the society of frivolous actresses is, of all kinds of society, the most agreeable to men, is a very delightful trait, and, though not a universal truth, does appear to have been supported by the facts of the particular case she was discussing. The assumption, too, that she was, naturally and necessarily, a good deal more to the Emperor than the Emperor could ever hope to be to her, is a pleasing example of the proper pride of the ladies who achieve distinction on the stage and leave it because they are even more admirable off the stage than on it.
On the episode of the divorce—and perhaps even on the whole story—a stern, unbending moralist might have something to say. Such a one might even contend that the Pope himself does not come out of the story very well. But then Popes have almost invariably, throughout the course of history, proceeded on the assumption that the ordinary rules of morality may properly be waived in favour of Catholic potentates; and a distinguished French moralist has laid down the rule that a liaison may acquire the dignity of marriage if it lasts long enough.
And this particular alliance has certainly endured for an extraordinary length of time. It still endures at the time at which these lines are written; and when one contemplates it, one finds oneself thinking, not of frivolous gallantries or passionate romances, but of domestic idylls, such as those of Darby and Joan, Philemon and Baucis, and John Anderson, my Jo.
One does not know, of course, whether Frau Katti Schratt ever, at any of her tête-à-tête tea-parties, sings the Emperor the sentimental ballads which consecrate those legends, but there is no reason why she should not—unless it be that she does not know them—and there are many reasons why she should. An unruffled fidelity extending over a period of nearly thirty years, and lasting until extreme old age, has surely earned both him and her a full title to the enjoyment of the emotions which they express.
CHAPTER XI
Francis Joseph’s passion for field sports—Enthusiasm of a nation of sportsmen for a sportsman Emperor—Anecdotes of sport—Estrangement of the Emperor and the Empress—The Empress’s departure for Madeira—Her wanderjahre—Her attitude towards life—The keeping up of appearances.
It seemed better to defy chronology, and speak of Frau Schratt at once. We do not want her continually flitting across the stage, to the interruption of grave historical discourses; but we do want to realise that she is there—a fixed domestic institution, bringing Francis Joseph, in a sense, into line even with the Habsburgs whose vagaries have caused him consternation. If she had predecessors, she has had no rivals; and no story arises out of the invitations to the imperial alcove of which certain other theatrical ladies used to boast in the earlier years of the reign. We will leave those matters, therefore, and next give the necessary passing glance at the Emperor’s notorious passion for field sports—a passion which has contributed more than a little towards his popularity.
It often is so; such tastes being held to contribute the touch of nature which makes the whole world kin, and the belief that a good shot is sure to be a good fellow being deeply rooted in the human breast—especially if the sportsman respects the rights of property, and compensates agriculturists for damage done in the pursuit of game. To some extent, indeed, the mere fact that an Emperor does not go shooting in his crown and royal robes, but in a costume similar to that worn by the peasants themselves, conveys to the bucolic mind a pleasant impression of condescending affability. Moreover, rustics like to be employed as beaters, and enjoy hearing and handing on stories of imperial sportsmen wandering, and losing themselves, and being mistaken for other people, and keeping up the illusion, and laughing at the mistake.